Happy Christmas
by jessica k malfoy
Summary: Tracey Davis worries about her first chance to be completely alone with her new boyfriend, Neville Longbottom.


Tracey was sprawled on the couch, using the remote to click through channels on the huge telly that hung above their fireplace. It was a lousy way to spend Christmas Eve, but the only thing keeping her from immeasurable boredom was the fact that her boyfriend would be arriving soon. She'd spent the entire day running around the house, making sure everything was perfect. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, the house smelled like the oatmeal raisin cookies she'd baked earlier, her hair and makeup were done perfectly, and she had picked her outfit with care – the blue scoop necked shirt didn't show too much cleavage (just a hint) and her jeans hugged her hips perfectly.

She glanced at the time on the telly screen, and was relieved to see that it read 2:45. iOnly 15 more minutes./i Tracey's nerves stood on end again, but she took a deep breath, willing them to go away. It had been like this since she'd started seeing Neville. She still couldn't believe how much she liked him. He made her nervous, made her question herself, made her quit smoking (whether he knew it or not. She hoped not.), made her want to be a better person; basically, he made her into a million things that she had never been. But she liked it. She'd been nice to Megan and Michael, despite the fact that she was not interested in her at all anymore, and he was far too needy. She'd been nice to all of Neville's friends, even the irritating ones like Potter and Granger. She'd improved her Herbology grades. She'd held her own in a civilized manner when the other Slytherin girls started in on her for dating a Gryff.

Tracey stood up and cross the room, standing in front of a large, ornate mirror and examining her reflection. She hoped Neville hadn't eaten yet. She'd promised him one of her world famous grilled cheese sandwiches and a cup of tea, and if he had eaten, well, she didn't know how they were going to pass the time.

Oh, she knew exactly how she iwanted/i to pass the time, but Merlin! They'd only been officially together for less than two months. But she wanted him. She wanted him so bad it hurt. It was getting to the point where she thought about him and her body would hummed electric. Since they had several classes together, ate lunch together, did homework together, spent their a good part of their free time together, it was getting difficult to concentrate on anything else.

"Hello?"

Tracey whirled around as the fire in the grate roared green and Neville appeared in front of her. She grinned widely as he stepped out and dusted off the ashes. Behind him, the fire resumed it's normal color and temperature, and Tracey couldn't help but laugh as he jumped away when the heat of the flames licked at his clothes.

"Hello," she greeted him. Wasting no time, she dashed towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and pressing her ear to his chest.

"Happy Christmas Eve. I missed you," Neville told her, kissing the top of her head. "Weird not seeing you for an entire week!"

"I know," she agreed, still listening to his heart beat. "Floo calls aren't good enough. I thought today was never going to get here."

She held him tighter, and he did the same. She loved the feeling of being pressed into his solid body. He had told her that he had been chubby, but she found that hard to believe. Underneath his shirt, which she'd had the immense pleasure of seeing exactly three times, his chest and stomach were firm and muscular.

The first time had been at DA practices, when some Hufflepuff wanker who was supposed to be practicing a defensive charm, threw a cutting curse instead. Lucky for Tracey, she had charged across the room and pulled Neville's shirt up to see what the damage was. Lucky for Neville (and the Hufflepuff), the damage wasn't very deep. It had been Ginny Weasley, her only sort of ally besides Neville in Gryffindor, who healed him.

The second time she'd seen his chest was when some disgusting animal in Care of Magical Creatures had sneezed on her and a cleaning charm wasn't good enough to make her ever want to wear that shirt again. She'd pulled that nasty shirt off before anyone could react, but Neville was just as fast. He had whipped his shirt off and handed it to her before anyone even realized what happened. Looking back, it may have not been her best plan to disrobe outside, surrounded by her schoolmates with snow on the ground. But Neville had came to her rescue, even though it had resulted in Professor Weasley sending him back to the castle to re-dress.

The third time had been when they were supposed to be doing their Divination homework. Trelawney had paired them off (probably because Tracey had ignored her when the professor asked her to please assist Ms. Brown and kept right on working with Neville) and assigned two pages of leave interpretations. Tracey was attempting to read his tea leaves – something they had learned in their third year, but apparently had to do all the bloody time – when Neville sighed loudly.

"There's nothing in there," he had told her. "Nothing but tea leaves."

"I think I see something," she had insisted. "It looks like the Sorting Hat. See?"

She held the porcelain teacup out to Neville who simply raised one eyebrow and muttered an incantation that filled the teacup up with steaming water.

"That's better," he grinned. "Milk and sugar? One lump or two?"

Tracey began to laugh. "I thought you Gryffindor's took your homework seriously."

"Only the serious homework," he assured her. "Besides, I thought you Slytherin's didn't care what we Gryffindor's did. Aren't you always looking for a chance to outshine us?"

"Everyone except me and Malfoy," Tracey told him dryly. She picked up her pencil and began sketching the tea leave lumps she had seen earlier. "Get the leaf translations out so you can tell me what this means."

"What is that?" he asked, leaning over her shoulder.

"My tea leaves. You should be drawing them too." She kept her head bowed over her tablet so he couldn't see her face.

"Tracey." His voice was serious. "What are you drawing?"

"That's what I saw in the leaves," she insisted, trying her hardest to keep from laughing.

"That looks like someone's chest."

"I think it's your chest," she told him, handing him the tablet and taking the book from his hands. She began to flip through it. "I wonder what it means." She made a show of flipping through the pages. "Oh here we go. Boyfriend's chest. Signifies strong feels of want or desire." She snapped the book closed and looked up at him.

Neville looked like he was biting his lip in an attempt not to laugh. "You are not turning this in to Trelawney."

"That's what I saw," she told him. "So that's what I'm turning in."

He narrowed his blue eyes playfully. "What will it take so that you idon't/i turn that in?" 

"Hmmm," Tracey tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Let's see... strong feelings of want or desire..."

"How do you expect me to keep my grades up?" he growled roguishly, moving closer to her.

"Forget about sleeping?" she suggested, leaning back until she was propped up on her elbows as Neville moved closer.

In one quick movement, he had his hand behind her head and his mouth pressed firmly against hers.

They kissed until Tracey could stand it no more, and she reached up to slide her hands underneath his shirt, and then when that was no longer good enough for her, she moved her hands upwards until she was tugging the shirt over his head.

As they broke their kiss, she saw surprise in Neville's eyes, but he didn't stop her. As their kissing progressed, she had ended up with her shirt off as well, but it had stopped there.

"Gran said to tell you hello," Neville told Tracey, snapping her out of her memories and back into her living room, where she still stood with her arms wrapped tightly around her boyfriend.

"That was nice," she said slowly. She was supposed to meet his Gran in two days. She had promised that she would come for lunch the day after Christmas. The thought of meeting the woman who raised him made her unreasonably nervous.

As they stood there, Neville's stomach growled.

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly. "You said you were gonna cook, so I told Gran no lunch for me."

"Good," she said, pleased. "Let's eat and then I'll give you a tour of the house." She reluctantly freed herself from him, but he quickly picked up her hand as she led him towards the kitchen.

"I really missed you."

Tracey glanced over her shoulder at her boyfriend and wondered if he felt that same electric feeling she did. Something about the low, deep tone of his voice made her think he did. "Me too." She swallowed hard. "So this is the kitchen. Just the usual kind, except no house elf. Da says they creep him out."

"They're a bit odd looking," Neville agreed, glancing around the large kitchen. "I guess it would be weird if you were a Muggle."

"Exactly. Sit down," she told him, motioning to the bar stools.

"I can help you," he protested.

"Nope," she smiled at him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I'm cooking. You just get to sit here and enjoy it."

"If you insist," he said, slowly moving his hand to cup her chin and kiss her lips.

"I insist," Tracey told him when their kiss broke. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely contain it. She wanted to push him down to the kitchen floor and strip him naked.

Tracey moved to the stainless steel refrigerator and began to pull out various types of cheeses, bread and a large, ripe tomato. "Do you like tomato on your grilled cheese?" she asked. But her mind was already spinning, focusing again on the issue that had been plaguing her since they had started dating. Neville had all but told her when they first met that he was a virgin. She wasn't sure how much experience he had relating to sex, if he had any at all. That was a difficult question to ask, who he had fooled around with. She didn't even want to know. The problem was that she was not a virgin. She had lost her virginity to Armando Bills in a bloody broom closet. iReal romantic/i, she thought sourly. Then there was Michael Corner. And then there was the fooling around with all the attractive blokes in her house.

"That sounds great."

Tracey glanced up, broken out of the thoughts again by Neville's voice. "I think they taste best that way." Neville seemed to like her, really like her, for who she was. "What have you done this week?" she asked, lighting the stove and dropping a pat of butter into the frying pan to melt.

"Um, well I went to see Mum and Dad on Monday. Gran wanted me to wait until tomorrow to go see them, but I figured I'd go spend some time with them myself."

Tracey glanced up from the cheese she was currently slicing. Normally this was the point in a conversation when a person would ask how his parents were doing, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He had already told her that his parents would be in there until they died. "How was that?" she asked instead.

"Mum gave me 11 gum wrappers," he told her with a shrug. "I think she's been saving them up for when I come see her."

Tracey couldn't help the look of surprise that crossed her face. "So she knows you now?" Neville had told her that every time he visited his parents he had to reintroduce himself.

"I don't know. I still had to tell her who I was."

"But she saved them," Tracey pointed out, stacking the thin slices of cheddar and Muenster cheeses onto the multigrain bread.

Neville nodded and looked down at his hands.

"Want something to drink? Water, orange juice, tea, milk, bourbon..."

He grinned. "Tea please."

Tracey began to pull the tea leaves from the cabinet. "Should I read your leaves again?"

"We can skip the reading," he laughed, "and just move straight to the snogging."

"Oh really?" She grinned at him, her hands on her hips.

His face flushed. "That just came out. I didn't mean it."

"What happened to that shy boy who I couldn't drag a kiss out of?" she demanded.

"He's still here," Neville said meekly.

Tracey placed the three grilled cheese sandwiches side by side in the large frying pan. "I like both of you. I love it when you're shy, but it's great when you take charge and say those kinds of things too."

When the sandwiches were ready, she placed two on one plate and served them to Neville with his cup of tea and carrot sticks, the only other thing she could find in the fridge. She placed the third sandwich on her plate and sat on the stool next to Neville. "If it's bad don't tell me. Just eat it all and pretend it was great."

As they ate Neville assured her that her grilled cheese sandwiches really were good, told her about the family dinner he'd had the night before last and that his Gran was planning an elaborate boxing day dinner for her.

Tracey didn't want him to know how terrified she was to meet his Gran. Parents were one thing, she knew how to handle them, but Neville hadn't asked her to meet his parents, and she guessed it might be a while before she ever did. What if his Gran could see through her facade and see what a shallow, selfish person she was?

"How about that tour?" Neville asked. "I've got to see this huge house."

Tracey took their plates back to the sink. "It's not that big."

"Yeah it is," he laughed. "You live in one of the fanciest neighborhoods in London."

"It's just my parents," she said quickly. "Not me." They left the kitchen and she showed him the library, the living room, and the den, where he had apparated into.

As they made their way through the house, Tracey noticed for the first time that every single thing was expensive and showy. Neville looked like he was walking through the house on tiptoe, as if he were afraid of tripping over his own feet and smashing something. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "My parents work all the time to buy really expensive things they can't enjoy."

"It's fine," he assured her. "Well not really. I don't like that you've been here alone all week."

"I'm used to it," Tracey shrugged, even though she had been bored silly. Only the heated pool in the backyard and her nightly floo calls to Neville had kept her sane.

"Promise your parents are going to be home tomorrow?"

"They will be," she assured him. "They're always home for Christmas."

"But didn't you say they stay busy with their work even when they're home?"

"Yeah," she said, keeping her voice casual. "It's no big deal."

"Yes it is," he frowned. "You should be with your family."

"In my family, we consider that being with each other," she told him. "It's fine."

They headed up the stairs and Tracey just motioned to her parents closed bedroom door and the guest room, before showing him the office, with all of it's fun Muggle electronics.

Tracey had planned for the tour of her house to finish with her bedroom, but now that they were standing in it, she wanted to move them back into the living room as quickly as possible. Neville was going to think she was nothing but a tart. "Let's go back downstairs," she started to tell him. "We can watch a movie or something. Didn't you say you'd never seen one?"

Neville looked down at her, his face serious and she knew whatever he was about to say, it had taken all his courage. "We can stay here for a few minutes." He reached for her hand and pulled her closer, leaning in to kiss her.

"Neville-"

"Shhhh." He pressed his lips to her mouth again, and she could feel his fingers timidly move across the back of her shirt.

Tracey kissed him back, reaching up so she could lace her fingers through his hair. Part of her wanted to yank his shirt off, but the other part of her insisted that she behave.

They stood, tangled together kissing until her knees threatened to give out and her toes ached from stretching up on them, but she didn't care. More than anything, Tracey wanted to touch every piece of him. She had missed him so much, even though it had only been a week since she'd been physically next to him.

He must have thought the same thing, because he leaned down and scooped her into his arms, depositing her gently on the side of her bed. "I've missed being able to feel you," he whispered, his voice wavering slightly as he trailing kisses along her neck and up to her ear. "And I've missed hearing your voice."

"I have to tell you something." She was humiliated at the way her voice wavered so pathetically. "I know that you're a virgin," she said, swallowing hard, "but I'm not and -"

"It's okay," he cut her off, his hands still moving across her skin. "I don't care what happened in the past."

"But I don't want you to think that I'm -"

"I don't think any sort of thing about you," he said sharply. "I just know how you make me feel."

She nodded, blinking quickly to make sure no tears appeared in her eyes. She was in love with him. Completely, totally, undeniably in love.

He smiled, shy and nervous. "Just don't expect perfection from me right now."

"It will be perfect," she assured him, her voice lowered to a whisper to keep it from wobbling. "I know it." She reached over to unbutton the front of his shirt, pretending that her hands weren't shaking. "Everything with you is always perfect."

She helped him out of his shirt and her breath caught beneath her ribs as it always seemed to when she saw his chest. Neville looked just as timid as his hands disappeared under the hem of her shirt. Once it had been disposed of, she moved into his lap, straddling him and kissing him fiercely. They kissed until Tracey's whole world narrowed down to just one focus, and for once it wasn't her. With him she felt the way she had never felt with anyone else – safe. If the world disappeared, if they lost the war, if everything they had ever known disappeared, it wouldn't matter. She would still be there with Neville.

All she could hear was the heavy in out patterns of their breathing and all she could feel was his skin exploring her skin, and her entire world contracted until Neville was the only thing that she knew or that mattered.

"I'm sorry," Neville whispered in her ear, his breathing heavy and quick. "I didn't mean for it to be over so fast."

She just smiled up at the ceiling, her fingers tracing lines across his bare back. "Don't be sorry." It had been fast, but it had also shown her something important – this was what sex was supposed to be like. Shagging someone you loved was quite different than shagging in dark corners of an old castle. Previously sex had been just about getting as much pleasure as she possibly could as quick as she possibly could. Even though she hadn't came, this had been much, much better than anything she'd ever experienced before.

"I wanted it to be good for you too."

His face was still buried in the crook of her neck, and she could feel their hearts pounding simultaneously. "It was," she assured him, enjoying the feeling of him laying on top of her, pressing her into the bed. She craned up slightly so she could kiss his neck and shoulders. "It was perfect."

Gently, Neville eased himself from between her legs and rolled off of her. They remained pressed together as Neville's fingers wound themselves through her long, dark hair. She could see that his fingers were trembling slightly, and she smiled. Although he had come a long way in just the short time that she had known him (a much longer way than she was aware of, according to the insufferable Granger), there were still moments when he hesitated and doubted himself. She liked those. But what she liked the most were the moments when he stood up and took charge and left everyone in the room looking shocked, like the time when he insisted that she join the DA.

"Should I go get us a wash cloth or something?" he asked finally. His blue eyes searched her own.

She nodded. "They're in the cabinet by the sink."

Tracey watched his as he crawled off her bed and made his way to her loo, completely naked and beautiful. She was in love. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she managed to hold them in. She had never told anyone that she was in love with them.

"It's snowing," he said, pausing as he passed her window.

"It is?" She sat up in bed. It didn't snow often in London and when it did, it rarely stuck. "Is it sticking?"

She scrambled off the bed and joined him at the window. Much to her delight, the snow had already made a heavy blanket across the houses in her neighborhood. "I love it," she giggled, clapping her hands together.

Neville put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "Iloveyou."

"What?" She tore her eyes away from the window and looked up at him.

"I, um, I love you."

Everything Tracey wanted to say, the image she always worked so hard to uphold, it all tangled in her throat in a hard lump. True, she had never told anyone she loved them before, but no one had iever/i told her that they loved her. "I love you too."

"Promise you'll come over on Boxing Day?"

"I promise," she told him. She wouldn't miss that for the world. She swallowed hard. "Let's go play in the snow."

"Tracey?"

She glanced up at Neville. "Hmm?"

"I'm gonna come over tomorrow. I'll just tell Gran that we can have Christmas dinner early. You can't be alone the whole day."

"Really," she insisted, swallowing down the hard knot in her throat. "I'll be fine. You can't leave your family." Tracey wondered what had ever possessed her in the past to put up with boys who only thought of themselves. If she had ever just stopped to think about it, she would have realized that there were people like Neville in the world.

"You can't talk me out of it. I'll be here, so tell your parents," he said firmly. He squeezed her hand. "Let's get dressed and go see about that snow. I see some snowballs with your name all over them."


End file.
